


Dancing About Architecture

by abundantlyqueer



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-24
Updated: 2004-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 01:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/131185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abundantlyqueer/pseuds/abundantlyqueer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando is trying to get Elijah's clothes off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing About Architecture

**Author's Note:**

> So, offa a few things I read on lj today, I sat down to write up a little thingie about me, and my fanfic, and this fandom, and whatall. And then I thought, y'know, really. Who gives a? So I wrote this instead.

Orlando is trying to get Elijah's clothes off. And Elijah is trying to help, really he is, because the push and pull of Orlando's big hands on his body is so knee-weakeningly good even through the layers of cotton and denim that Elijah is almost desperate to find out – all over again – how incredible they're going to feel on his naked skin.  
But there's too many hands – Orlando's left, with the rough leather edge of his watch-cuff scraping sweet friction against Elijah's belly, and Orlando's right, with the hard rims of his rings scoring lines of pure ecstasy on the pulsing heat of Elijah's cock, and Elijah's left hand trying to guide Orlando to the button at the waist of his denims and taking a wrong turn somewhere and ending up between Orlando's thighs and rubbing mindlessly at the hot soft curves Orlando's balls through the loose folds of his combats, and Elijah's right hand on the inside of Orlando's left wrist, his thumb slowly and viciously fucking the hollow between the tendons.  
"I wanna fuck you," Orlando says, his voice thick and rough.  
And obviously Elijah sort of knew that already, but still, hearing the words – feeling the words – vibrating through his chest where it's pressed against Orlando seems to shock every nerve and bone and blood cell in his body. The words have weight, and they drop straight into Elijah's groin and there's a honey-sweet painful _pang_ and Elijah feels like he's going to piss or come or something and he just clutches at Orlando with both hands.  
And that's good, because now his hands are fisted in Orlando's tee shirt, his knuckles digging into the dense muscle of Orlando's chest, and that means there's finally enough space for Orlando to work the button and then Orlando's sliding Elijah's zip down and pulling Elijah's jeans open and Elijah lets his head fall back and just  
 _groans_  
because the release of pressure and the soft touch of the air and the shift of weight as his cock comes free and finds its level is a flood of pleasure he can hardly breathe through.  
Orlando shoves both hands inside the hips of Elijah's jeans, and the rasp of his callused palms on the thin skin of Elijah's hipbones is so real, so stunningly fucking realized, that Elijah has to squeeze his eyes shut and stretch his mouth wide and he fights for a better grip with both hands, the blunt stubby tips of his fingers digging hard into Orlando's chest.  
Orlando's hands move, a shocking smear of sensation around the twitching curves of Elijah's ass, and Elijah pushes back, arching his spine and lifting his tail shamelessly, desperate to be opened, to be filled.  
"Now, now, now," Elijah says feverishly, rubbing his face from side to side in Orlando's chest, because any friction is better than no friction and every inch of his skin is erogenous zone now, with his blood beating just as fervently in his lips and fingertips and fucking _toes_ as it is in his glans and balls and ass.  
Everything below Elijah's navel is a red hot heavy churning chaos, his pulse pounding in counterpoint to itself and to the sweet echoing ache of something pulling tight and opening wide and just fucking  
 _wanting_  
so badly.  
"Now?" Orlando asks, the sharp edge of his chin against Elijah's cheekbone and his hands spread over Elijah's buttocks and pulling them slightly apart, just enough for Elijah to feel the kissing separation of skin from skin and the prickle of air on sweat.  
Elijah answers, and it's not a word, it's not a yes, it's an animal snarl, a liquid rolling sound deep in Elijah's throat. Elijah manages to unknot one hand from Orlando's shirt and grabs the back of Orlando's neck – scorching skin and the bite of vertebrae – and he drags Orlando down.  
Orlando's mouth is hard, thin lips and sharp teeth and jabbing tongue, and Elijah bites and swallows and devours it whole. Orlando's right hand curls under Elijah's buttocks and his fingers – middle and ring, Elijah knows them by the feel of the fucking _fingerprints_ now – stroke a line of fire up the taut underside of Elijah's balls and Elijah exhales a cry into Orlando's mouth and claws fucking _claws_ at Orlando's nape.  
Orlando's fingers smear flame up to Elijah's ass and Elijah's fragmentarily aware of the world turning red and black and his heart fucking hammering inside his chest and throat and mouth, and something tighter and faster than hummingbird wings beating in his groin and he can't breathe, can only flutter his tongue inside Orlando's mouth in helpless imitation of the thing quivering inside him.  
And Orlando's fingers find the soft open ache and thrust  
in  
and Elijah folds, everything falling into the dark except the razor-sweet shocks of his seed spurting out of him.  
"Shh, shh," Orlando's saying, and his tongue sting-smears the tears from the outer corners of Elijah's eyes, and Elijah sort of comes into focus on the god-awful sounds he's making, like an injured animal begging for death, when really all Elijah wants is for his bones to stop burning and his body to stop quivering out little spasms when it's already empty, wrung out, fucking _gutted_ as Dom likes to say.  
Elijah sucks down air, and sort of pulls weakly at Orlando, who's got one arm wrapped tight around Elijah's waist to hold him up.  
"Oh," Elijah says, realizing that his cock – heavy, sort of softly stunned, but very pleased – is hanging against the soaking wet expanse of cloth covering Orlando's right thigh. "Sorry."  
Orlando smiles breathlessly, and catches his narrow lower lip between his teeth and pulls his fingers  
"Oh!"  
out.  
"Was that - ?"  
Elijah grins in answer, because it was, it totally absolutely completely was, and he wants Orlando to know it was, but  
there are just no more  
words.

**Author's Note:**

> I love my fandom. Thanks to all of you who make my fun so much more fun.


End file.
